


Anniversary

by pipermca



Series: Black on White on Black [8]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Anniversary, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Even for Bluestreak, I simply love these two goobers, IDW-based AU, M/M, Post-War, Recovery takes time but it can happen, References to past trauma, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-08 08:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21232628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipermca/pseuds/pipermca
Summary: As Hound's field swirled with eagerness, Bluestreak laughed. "What's got you so excited?" he asked.Hound kissed Bluestreak's nose playfully. "It's been 25,000 vorn since the day I first met you," he said.





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as completely self-indulgent fluff when I needed to rest my brain after writing a particularly difficult fic. I have no regrets.

"Are you finally going to wake up, sleepyhead?"

Bluestreak had been drifting in and out of recharge for a while, probably a groon or more. He was warm, the berth was comfy, and he had nothing in particular to do today except the usual chores around their homestead. It was the perfect day for sleeping in. But upon hearing his lover's voice, Bluestreak's optics fluttered open and he looked up at Hound.

Hound was looking down at him with a soft smile on his lips, his helm propped by his hand. When Bluestreak's optics focused on him, his smile widened. "There you are. I was wondering if you were going to recharge all day." His field tasted of amusement, with just a slight hint of anticipation.

Closing his optics again, Bluestreak tensed all of his cables in a stretch before looking back up at Hound and returning his smile. "Maybe I was planning on it," he said. He lifted his helm and gave Hound a quick kiss. "What are **you** still doing here, though?" he asked. He checked his chronometer and found that it was rather late in the morning, indeed. "You're usually up way before me."

Hound laughed quietly, and grabbed Bluestreak's waist to pull him closer. "I did get up earlier," he said. "I fed Homer and Marge, and made us something special for this morning. Then I came back up here to wait for you to get up." His smile went a little bashful. "I like watching you while you recharge, Blue. You look really peaceful. I didn't want to wake you up, but..."

Once again, he felt Hound's field swirl with eagerness, and Bluestreak grinned. "What's got you so excited?" he asked.

Hound kissed Bluestreak's nasal ridge playfully. "I have just a few things planned for today. We can do all of them, or none of them. Whatever you want is fine by me," he said. When Bluestreak looked at him questioningly, he added, "It's the anniversary of the day I first met you."

Bluestreak's optics widened. "It's... what?" he asked, wracking his memory. He and Hound had gone on their first 'date' while on Earth, and they'd both been assigned to the Ark's crew on the same day before leaving Cybertron. But by any measurement or calendar, neither of those days were today. "It can't be," Bluestreak said firmly, hoping that he was right. He didn't want to have missed an important day. "The anniversary of our first date is months away. And –"

With another laugh, Hound kissed Bluesteak again. "It is an anniversary, but not of our first date," he said insistently. "But don't worry. I absolutely do **not** expect you to remember the very first time we met." His smile was fond as his optics darted all over Bluestreak's face. "It was when you were first assigned to Nova Point."

"Nova Point?" Bluestreak's optics widened as he accessed that memory. It had been early in the war, and Nova Point was his first posting after joining the Autobots. He remembered it as a confusion of new faces, new duties, new priorities, and new problems. He didn't remember Hound at all. "I... I don't remember meeting you there," he said finally with a frown.

Before Bluestreak even had a chance to dwell on the fact that he couldn't remember meeting Hound at Nova Point, the green mech tipped his helm forward to rest the blunt curve of his helm against Bluestreak's chevon. "Like I said, I don't expect you do," he said. He looked into Bluestreak's optics, holding his gaze steadily. "You came off the transport from Iacon alongside all the other new recruits. You all looked tired, but ready to put your training to use. Maybe you all looked a little scared, too. That was understandable."

"I remember getting off the transport," Bluestreak said. His first impression of Nova Point had been a confusing jumble of temporary structures, gun emplacements, and lots of mechs. All of them looked like they'd seen some slag. "But..."

"I was helping Sergeant Kup with your berth assignments," Hound said. When Bluestreak tried to shake his helm again, Hound stopped him with another kiss. "There's **no way** you would remember me. I was just the mech with the clipboard following along behind Kup. I never said my designation. I didn't say anything, in fact. All I did was hand you a chip with a trunk code." He shrugged. "But I remember you. I remember Private Bluestreak. I was struck by how young you looked, and how straight you stood at attention. I remembered how brave you were trying to sound, and how determined you seemed, and I was glad that you were able to laugh at Kup's terrible jokes." He smiled. "I liked the sound of your laugh. And I admit to noticing your door wings." Hound pulled Bluestreak tightly against him. "Praxians were so rare then, so to see one... I couldn't **help** but notice you," he whispered.

Bluestreak closed his optics, and lost himself for a moment in the swirl of love and support that Hound's field wrapped around him. He had to work his intake before he could answer. "I still don't remember."

"I know. It's all right. Because it's the first time I met you. You didn't meet me." When Bluestreak opened his optics, Hound's gaze was full of nothing but affection. He smiled. "I got shipped off to Rodion three days later, and I didn't see you again until we were assigned to the Ark."

Relaxing slightly, Bluestreak smiled. "**That** I remember," he said. That memory was more clear than his initial posting to Nova Point. His optics widened. "And... you knew my designation!" He laughed, startled at the connection made after so much time. "That was a huge mystery to me, you know that? I couldn't figure out how you knew me, but then I forgot to ask, and..." Bluestreak shook his helm. "But that was ages later! How did you even remember me?"

"Private Bluestreak made an impression on me, I guess," Hound said with a shrug. "I wasn't obsessing over seeing you again or anything, but... Occasionally I wondered what had happened to you, and your lovely smile." He planted another kiss on Bluestreak's lips. "When I saw you'd been assigned to the Ark with me, I was happy to know that you'd made it that far."

Still shaking his helm over the fact that Hound had known his designation for far longer than he had known Hound's, Bluestreak tried to figure out the anniversary Hound had mentioned. When his processor finally settled on a number, his optics widened. "So if you first met me at Nova Point, that means today is..."

"It has been 25,000 vorn since I first knew your designation," Hound said. He sat up, pulling Bluestreak up with him. "So with that in mind, I have just a few things planned for us... If you're willing." He winked at Bluestreak.

Bluestreak laughed. "I'm willing," he said. "Lead the way!"

In the little dining nook they'd set up beside the kitchen, Bluestreak took a seat at Hound's order. He looked around the table at the little flourishes Hound had added: he'd gotten out the fancy platters, the delicate glass tumblers, and even pulled out the old fabric placemats they'd obtained before leaving Earth. (Really, they were recut quilts, but they were homey and had a lot of memories for both of them.) At the center of the table was a little collection of decorative crystals trimmed from Hound's garden outside the house. "Now I'm really curious what you've got going on in there," Bluestreak called into the kitchen, where Hound was busying himself.

"Wonder no more. And as they said, bon appetite!" Hound emerged from the kitchen carrying another platter piled high with... things.

Bluestreak stared at the square grids that Hound piled on his plate. "Um," he said, hoping that he wasn't sounding ungrateful. "What are these?"

"Waffles." Hound sounded amazingly self-satisfied as he plopped two of the grids on his own plate and sat down.

"Oh yeah! I remember waffles." Bluestreak peered at the items on his plate and poked one of them with the tip of his finger. It gave slightly, but didn't wobble like a gel would. "But... how?" he asked. "And what did you make them out of?"

"Try one, **then** I'll tell you," Hound said, still smiling. He poured some of the murky brown liquid over his waffles, cut off a piece, and took a bite.

Bluestreak copied Hound, dubiously nibbling a little piece from his waffle. Then his optics brightened. "Hey... This is really good!" he exclaimed. He took another, larger bite. It was chewy, and had a good flavor, and he was pretty sure it ranked in the top ten things that Hound had ever made. "All right, so spill... What the heck are these? I know they aren't made out of wheat and chickens and cow juice and whatever else went into real Earth waffles."

Hound shook his helm as he sliced off another bite. "Of course not. These are actually pretty fuel dense, by the way... You'll probably only need those two before your tanks are full." He finished chewing before continuing. "I was chatting with Mixmaster when I saw him in Iacon last decacycle, and he was telling me about a new type of gelling agent he was cooking up. It lets you get textures like this, but without that gummy coating you get when you just double the gelling agent."

Bluestreak nodded as he continued to eat. "I thought the Constructicons were moving to... I thought they were moving to New Praxus?" he asked. His voice caught slightly, but he was able to say the name of the new city without a quaver in his voice.

Maybe he really was starting to overcome his demons.

Hound had paused and looked at him closely when Bluestreak had faltered, but when he saw Bluestreak was fine he nodded. "They are," he said, taking another bite.. "They're actually packing up now. They've got a contract for a block of the new high rises. I think Scavenger and Long Haul are already there. The rest of them will be following pretty soon." He scraped the last few pieces of waffle from his plate, then picked up Bluestreak's empty plate to take them back to the kitchen. "Have you heard from Prowl or Jazz lately?"

"Not since the last time Jazz called." Bluestreak followed Hound out to the kitchen and helped him clean up. He smiled as he looked around the small room. Hound was so efficient in here. If Bluestreak had tried to make these 'waffles,' there would be a bit of a disaster to clean up. "Jazz wanted to know when we were planning on coming out." Bluestreak frowned. "I told him soon. I think."

Hound rounded on Bluestreak and wrapped him in a hug. "Like I said: we'll go as soon as you feel ready and not a moment too soon."

"I know. And thanks." Bluestreak returned Hound's hug. "And thank you for breakfast, by the way."

"That's just the beginning!" Hound said, his field filled with excitement. Bluestreak laughed as Hound kicked the door to the cleaning unit closed with a flourish. "But... Did you have anything planned for today already? I don't want to step over anything you were going to do," Hound said.

"Well..." Bluestreak thought for a moment. The mention of New Praxus had reminded him again of the gift he'd been working on for their friends. "I was thinking about spending a little while on the piece for Jazz and Prowl," he said. "I've almost finished the sky, so I could probably get that done today. And I should probably finish cleaning my gear and do an inventory." He heaved a dramatic sigh at the mention of the chore, although he really didn't mind the work. It was pretty mindless, and he could do it while listening to one of the Camien audio plays that had become popular lately. Some of them were really good.

"Perfect!" Hound exclaimed. When Bluestreak tipped his helm to the side with a questioning smile, Hound grabbed his shoulders and turned him to shoo him out the door. "Go! Work on your gift. I'll be out in a little while to see how you're doing. But don't start on your gear until I come out!" he admonished with a waggle of his finger.

"Yes, sir!" Bluestreak said with a laugh and a mock salute, and made his way outside to his workshop.

Bluestreak and Hound both had their own workshops, places where they could work on their own projects and have a little privacy. They loved each other dearly, but Cybertronians were also very long-lived. Even the most devoted of couples needed someplace private to be alone once in a while. The workshops were in the 'barn,' as they called it, which was situated a short distance from their house.

Bluestreak walked across the yard, stopping at the corral fence on the way. The zap ponies had zoomed up to the fence in their vehicle modes when they heard the house door open. Bluestreak clucked at them as they both transformed into beast mode and trotted along the fence to greet him.

"Morning, Homer," Bluestreak said. He fished some crystal treats out of his compartments and gave one to the larger pony. "And hello, Marge." The smaller pony took the crystal from his fingers a bit more delicately, and turned his head away when Homer tried to grab his crystal, too. "Homer, knock that off," Bluestreak murmured, pulling Homer's muzzle back towards him firmly. He petted the smooth metal on the tip of Homer's nose while Marge finished crunching on his crystal. "You greedy thing."

Homer vented softly into Bluestreak's hand, snuffling as he gave his hands a thorough inspection. Then he snorted when he realized that Bluestreak wasn't hiding another treat. Bluestreak laughed as Homer turned and started plodding back up the hill to return to grazing. Bluestreak turned his attention to Marge, scritching the other zap pony between his antennae the way he liked.

Hound may have been the one to rescue the two zap ponies from the smelter, buying them off of their owner the cycle before they were going to be destroyed. But somehow, in the several vorn since they'd arrived, the zap ponies had become Bluestreak's pets.

Both Bluestreak and Hound took care of the ponies, making sure they were fed and maintained. But Bluestreak was the one they both rushed to when he approached the fence. And Homer only let Bluestreak touch his hooves or wheels for some reason. Hound thought that maybe a truck frame had mishandled Homer at some point in the past, and Homer simply didn't trust Hound because of his chassis type. Whatever the reason, Bluestreak was the only one who could complete all of the larger pony's maintenance.

And at the moment, Marge seemed to be content to spend all day with his muzzle buried in Bluestreak's chest armor. Bluestreak rubbed under the pony's chin, resting his own chevron between Marge's optics. "I've got things to do, buddy," Bluestreak said. When Marge just snorted, Bluestreak laughed again. "I'll come out again tonight and give you both a good rubdown, and get all the dust off of you. How about that?" With that, he stepped away from the fence. Marge watched Bluestreak for a moment before turning and ambling back up the hill to where Homer was grazing again on the short crystals that covered their pasture.

Bluestreak added his promise to Marge to his mental to-do list. That was another chore he didn't mind, especially when Hound helped. It was almost as if they were a real family, the two of them caring for their charges.

It was probably as close as they'd ever get to being a proper family, considering their past conversations.

Bluestreak frowned and shoved that thought aside.

Shouldering the barn door open, Bluestreak walked through the barn into the back of the structure, to his workshop. It was exactly as he'd left it the other day, with the workbench covered in tools and scraps of glass, and the picture he was recreating hung on the wall in front of the bench. Every once in a while he felt a little guilty that his work area was so messy, but… What did it really matter? Aside from Hound, he was the only one who saw it, and he knew where everything was.

Just like he had in his old workshop, back in Praxus before the war.

Bluestreak closed the door to his workshop halfway and sat down at the bench. He compared the partially-finished piece on the workbench to the diagram hanging over the work area to refresh himself on where he'd left off.

He was making a housewarming gift for Prowl and Jazz for their place in New Praxus. Bluestreak hadn't said anything to Hound or to his therapist Beacon, but Bluestreak had a half-formed goal in mind. When he finished the gift, it was time to schedule the trip to New Praxus so that he could give his friends their gift in person. Somehow, having that as a goal felt doable.

He just hoped he could go through with it when the time came.

Bluestreak shoved that misgiving aside. Of course he could go through with it. He had no lack of help or support. And besides... He really wanted to give the gift to his friends.

The gift was a stained glass picture that merged the landscapes of Earth with Cybertron. On the left side was the grey and red of the upper plains where Hound and Bluestreak lived, with a city of silver and gold rising in the distance. In the sky above it, Luna 1 gleamed between pinkish clouds. On the right side of the picture was the blue and green of Earth, ocean and grass below, with white clouds scattered across a pale blue sky above.

It was one of the most complex pieces he'd done since the war had ended. Even though he enjoyed his current work, leading hunting and sightseeing trips into the Cybertronian outback, he missed working with his hands and creating things. Refreshing his ancient crafting skills was satisfying in to him in a way that Bluestreak hadn't expected.

Humming quietly to himself, Bluestreak selected a pane of variegated pink and started cutting the next piece for the sky.

Bluestreak had actually finished the sky and had started cutting the broad pieces that would make up the Cybertronian plains of the scene when Hound knocked on the door of his workshop. "I'm just checking to see how things are going," Hound said, sticking his helm through the open door. "Can I come in?"

"Yep! I think I'm about done with this for the day anyway," Bluestreak said, sitting up straight again and stretching out the cables in his back. He leaned back into Hound's embrace as the green mech came and looked over his shoulder. "See, I've got all of the sky done like I said I would. It's going to be good to switch back to working on larger pieces. I'm dreading when I get to the city in the background there, because those pieces are really tiny. That's going to be really tedious. But I think it'll all look great when it's done."

Hound nodded, working his digits into the gaps in Bluestreak's shoulder armor and massaging the cabling underneath. "I really like the pieces you chose for the clouds," he said. "The gradients all go the same way! That's some really nice attention to detail."

"Thanks," Bluestreak said, sending his appreciation for Hound's praise into his field. He knew it looked good, but hearing it from someone else was always nice.

Hound's field, on the other hand, was filled with excitement. Bluestreak tipped his helm back to look at Hound, who smiled down at him. "So, I have a surprise for you in my workshop," Hound said. "Can I take you there?" He held his hand out to Bluestreak.

Taking Hound's hand, Bluestreak stood. "Lead the way," he said.

"Close your optics," Hound said, and Bluestreak obeyed without hesitation.

Even with his optics closed, Bluestreak wasn't completely blind. His door wings gave him a huge amount of information about the space around him, so he knew when they left his workshop and entered Hound's. He could sense shapes around him, like Hound's workbench and the shelves filled with the clutter of tools Hound used to care for the dozens of organic plants he kept in their house. Bluestreak hadn't been in Hound's workshop for a while, so some of the other items he could only 'see' the shape of, but couldn't identify. One of those items was a large hulking shape against the far wall.

Hound moved to stand behind him, and covered Bluestreak's optics with his hands. "All right," Hound said into his audial. "Ready?" His field was practically pulsing with eagerness.

"I'm ready," Bluestreak said with a smile.

"And... surprise!" Hound lifted his hands off of Bluestreak's optics.

Bluestreak stared at the object in front of him. It was a huge rectangular storage unit of some kind, with intricately carved doors. Each door was inset with an image of a Cybertronian mechanimal. "It's a cabinet?" Bluestreak asked uncertainly, and he stepped forward to look at it closer. "These designs are gorgeous," he said, reaching out to touch the closest door and its carving of a lupinoid. As his fingers grazed the surface of the door, something about the material that made up the doors caught his attention. He touched it again. Then his door wings flared out in shock. "Holy Primus, is this **real wood**?" he asked, turning to look at Hound.

Hound's smile made him look positively gleeful. "It is," Hound said, stepping forward to stand next to Bluestreak. Linking his arm through Bluestreak's, he added, "I made the cabinet case myself – that's just extruded plasteel like our other furniture – but I commissioned the carvings from Brawn." His field was filled with delight as he looked at Bluestreak's face. "I think he did a great job on it."

"He really did. These are exquisite," Bluestreak said, touching the carving of a nosoron on the next door. "But... Real wood? Actual organic wood? Where did you get it from? This must have cost a fortune!" They each had their own account for personal purchases, but Bluestreak couldn't see how Hound could have possibly afforded this much of the rare material with the income they made with their guiding business.

"I did a fair amount of saving up over the past vorn, but I also called in a favour from Mirage," Hound said, his tone slightly smug. "He used his connections to get me the pieces I needed for a good price." He reached out and opened several of the doors in turn, showing Bluestreak the compartments inside. "It's all laid out for your hunting equipment: racks for your rifles, smaller drawers for ammunition and clips, large drawers for other things like decoys and lures."

"So this is why you wanted me to wait before starting on cleaning and organizing my gear," Bluestreak said. When Hound nodded, Bluestreak pulled him into a hug. "Thank you so much. This is a wonderful surprise! I really wasn't expecting this!"

"That's sort of the point of a surprise, isn't it?" Hound asked, then hummed as Bluestreak pressed a kiss to his lips. "Now, if you can help me get this out into the main part of the barn, I'll help you start moving your stuff over to the new cabinet."

The cabinet was deceptively heavy. By the time they got it relocated into its new home in the barn and finished shifting all of Bluestreak's gear into it, the sun was beginning to swing low over the mountains. As Bluestreak had expected, Hound agreed to help him give the zap ponies a thorough wash, although Bluestreak did most of the work on Homer. And after they were done with that chore, they retreated to the wash rack in the house to give themselves the same treatment.

As Bluestreak leaned against the wall of their wash rack to allow Hound to give the backs of his door wings an utterly amazing rubdown and rinse in the hot solvent, Bluestreak couldn't help but laugh a little.

"What's so funny?" Hound asked, lowering the cloth he'd been using to clean Bluestreak's wings.

"I was just thinking how much my life has changed since I met you, and especially in the time since we moved in together, and built this place," Bluestreak said. He wiggled his wings to encourage Hound to continue the delightful touches, and he smiled when Hound started washing them again. "Like, before the war, it never would have occurred to me that the best way to get clean was to climb into a wash rack with another mech and get them to clean the backs of my wings." He sighed happily as Hound's fingers dug into the crevices around his door hinges. "I mean, we had brushes and tools to clean our backs. It was no big deal. But now, I've gotten so used to **this** that I don't think I'd know what to do without you."

Hound sprayed the hot solvent over the parts he'd just finished cleaning, and then pressed a kiss onto Bluestreak's shoulder. "What do you do when I'm off with a tour group? Just skip washing? Live in your own dusty filth?" he asked teasingly. "Or ask some random mech on the road to come wash you?"

"No!" Bluestreak laughed, spinning in Hound's embrace and hugging him. "I use the brushes then. But it's not the same." He took the cloth from Hound's hand and motioned for the green mech to turn around. "You just do a much better job on them than I can do myself."

"If I'd known you just wanted me for my skills with a chamois I wouldn't have bothered with a big present," Hound replied, and they both laughed.

"There's more to it, of course," Bluestreak said as he soaped up the parts of Hound's frame that the green mech had trouble reaching. "Obviously, Praxians who pair up... They'll wash each other's wings. But it's such an intimate thing that..." He vented softly, and extended his field to brush against Hound's, careful to demonstrate that he was not spinning into the dark places his thoughts sometimes went. "It's just that, after Praxus, I didn't think I'd find anyone I trusted enough to do that for me." He sprayed the solvent down the backs of Hound's legs and gently turned him back around. "So, thank you for that. For showing me I **could** trust someone that much."

"If anyone should be giving thanks, it's me," Hound said, reaching past Bluestreak to turn off the solvent stream. "Thank you for giving me that trust, Blue." He handed Bluestreak a towel. "So, how do you feel about a full polish now that you're all clean?"

A groon later, cleaned, dried and freshly polished, Bluestreak kicked back in his chair on the porch. If there was one aspect of their house that he loved more than anything else, it was the huge porch that wrapped around the front of the building. They had borrowed the feature from the farmhouses they'd seen on Earth. The Constructicons hadn't been quite sure what to make of it, but after they saw it in practice they said they had started recommending the feature to other clients looking to have homes built on the reformatted Cybertron.

The sun had set long before Bluestreak took his seat on the porch, and the yard was dark and shadowed. From the porch, he could see the glow of the zap ponies' optics as they stood out in their pasture, and the faint gleam of the security lights at the edge of their property up by the road. To the south, skyglow marked where Iacon lay, hidden just below the horizon. Bluestreak had lit the small lantern they kept on the porch for when they sat outside on evenings like this, and tiny glowflies flitted around its cylinder.

"I got into the good stuff. I figured you wouldn't mind," Hound said as he opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. He handed Bluestreak a cube and settled onto the glider bench next to him. "After all, it's a special day. To us," he said, holding his own cube up to Bluestreak's.

"Here's to another 25,000 vorn," Bluestreak said, tipping his cube so it clinked against Hound's. "I still can't believe you've known me for that long." He took a careful sip from his cube, and rolled the liquid around in his mouth before swallowing. "Mmm! This is that aged visco that Prowl gave us, isn't it?" he asked.

"It is," Hound said, and threw his arm around Bluestreak's shoulders. He took a noisy sip from his own cube, aerating the liquid as he drank. Bluestreak turned his head to look at the zap ponies so as to hide his smile; he'd always thought that Hound's method of drinking engex was funny. But he looked back at Hound when the green mech gently rubbed his shoulder where his hand rested. "Did you have a good anniversary? I thought about maybe booking us into a hotel in Iacon and going to a concert or some fancy restaurant in the city, but that isn't really our style."

"This was just fine," Bluestreak said, leaning into Hound's embrace. "Perfect even. It was the right mix of special and normal. I mean, from the moment my day started it was nice. You told me that story you'd never told me before, about how you first met me... I wish I could remember you, but I guess there's some things your memory just doesn't hang onto. The cabinet was a really fantastic surprise, too!" He grinned at Hound. "Those carvings are spectacular, and I'm still completely blown away by how you managed to get real organic wood for it. I desperately needed a better way to organize all my gear. Thank you for that gift." He leaned back in the glider and looked out at the yard. "And there's all the little things, the things I know you do all the time, like washing the backs of my wings where I can't reach myself, that's just –"

As he spoke, things clicked into place in Bluestreak's processor, and his optics widened. The story. The gift. The wash and polish. He looked at Hound and pulled his field in as tight as he could, afraid of what he'd be revealing. "Hound... Did you... Did you perform the Conjux Ritus today on purpose?"

Hound's field flared with trepidation, but his expression was one of resolve. He set his cube aside on the table beside the glider, and slid off to kneel on the porch floor in front of Bluestreak. Taking one of Bluestreak's hands in his, Hound looked up at him earnestly. "Yes, but it's not how you think. I know, a long time ago, we talked about becoming Junxies, and you said that you didn't think that was something you could commit to. And I said that was fine." Hound squeezed Bluestreak's hand, and Bluestreak could feel the green mech's field swirling around him, seeking any hint of how the Praxian was feeling. "It's **still** fine. Nothing has changed there. I am not asking you to do anything that you are not comfortable with."

Bluestreak stared down at Hound. He remembered that conversation, the one they'd had after the war had ended, and they were both just happy to just be alive after everything that had happened. They both said they wanted to stay by each others' sides, forever, but....

_But._

Bluestreak remembered Hound asking if he would like to be joined together as Conjux Endurae... And Bluestreak had said no. Not because he didn't love him, Bluestreak had hastened to reassure Hound, but because he was worried that solidifying their relationship into something different, something named, something official, could somehow cause him to lose Hound. Bluestreak had lost so much since the bombs began to fall on Praxus. In one of its anguished twists, his processor had managed to convince him that if he and Hound became Conjuxes, he would lose Hound just like he had lost everything he'd ever cared about in his old life in Praxus. No matter how crazy it sounded when he voiced it, Bluestreak could not shake the feeling that the very act of committing to Hound would mean that he would lose him.

Anxiety was never rational.

Hound, Primus bless him, accepted this, and had never brought it up again. Until now.

Bluestreak felt his anxiety swell, but he wrestled the feelings back down so that he could think clearly. Or at least **try** to think clearly. He kept his field pulled in as tightly as he could. "I don't understand. Are you asking or are you -" Bluestreak started to say, but Hound reached up and pressed a finger against Bluestreak's lips.

"This is **not** a proposal," Hound said. "These are not the Rites, not really. The things I did today... I did them just because I **love** you, not because I want anything to change between us." He massaged the back of Bluestreak's hand before pressing his lips against Bluestreak's fingers. "I would do all of them for you, again and again, for as long as you'll let me, just because I think you deserve it. And I don't need our relationship to be formalized or codified or celebrated. We know what we have together, and that's good enough for me. Really."

A half smile lifted one side of Bluestreak's mouth. "I've heard some mechs say that even if you don't intend the acts to be part of the Ritus, they still count in Primus's optics."

Hound laughed, and Bluestreak felt Hound's field relax slightly. "Some religious mechs do say that. And you're about a religious as a rock," Hound said. He kissed Bluestreak's hands again. "And besides, I didn't do **all** of the acts. I left one out. You know, just in case you made that argument." He winked at Bluestreak.

A million different thoughts flew through Bluestreak's processor as he considered and analyzed all of the data that he had been presented. It helped relax him, soothing the anxiety that some of the processor threads had created. Bluestreak's powers of analysis were nowhere near as advanced as Prowl's, but engaging those skills helped calm him. He had been an effective sniper on the battlefield because calculating trajectories and targets and windshear and movement took so much processing power that he was left incapable of having a panic attack. Now, after the war, his processor was rarely taxed with that much data. But all of the information, from Hound's actions that day, to what Bluestreak knew of their history together, to Cybertronian law, to conversations that Bluestreak had had with his therapist Beacon over the past vorn, was reviewed and evaluated until he reached a conclusion.

He could do this. He was sure.

And for the first time, it felt right.

Bluestreak's half smile became a full one. "And it could also be argued that, by agreeing to stay by my side even though I've told you I don't want to become Junxies, you've demonstrated the Rite of Devotion anyway. Which would mean you've done all four Rites in one light cycle."

Hound's field tensed again, and the smile slipped from his face. "Trust me, Blue," he said, his voice taking on a slight pleading tone. "I would **never** try to coerce you or guilt you into doing anything that you wouldn't be comfortable with, and –"

"What if I said yes?" Bluestreak asked. He finally released his own field, threading it through Hound's reassuringly.

Hound's field writhed, caught between surprise and shock and hope. His mouth worked silently for a moment before his vocalizer re-engaged. "What?" he asked.

Bluestreak lifted Hound's hands to his lips and kissed his fingers the way Hound had done to him. "You know how Beacon has been working with me on stopping my negative thoughts?" When Hound nodded, Bluestreak continued. "So, if I apply that here... I resisted becoming Conjunx because I was afraid of losing you. I knew that was irrational, but I couldn't shake that feeling. So I ask myself: how would I lose you? And the answers were always crazy. Things like: you'd find someone else who you liked better as soon as we became Conjunx. Or the act of registering our relationship would cause the administration to find some reason to keep us separate. Or one of us would suddenly fall sick with some incurable thing. Or you'd drive off a cliff."

"You're the only one of us who's ever driven off a cliff," Hound said quietly, and Bluestreak was relieved to feel the tang of amusement in Hound's field.

"Right? And we're still together, even after that." Bluestreak leaned down to rest his helm against Hound's. "So Beacon told me to ask myself these questions, and see if my fears are actually rational. If they aren't, he said that maybe I should reconsider my first impulse of avoidance." He vented softly and fixed his gaze on Hound's optics, just centimeters from his own. "After all... Avoiding something that could bring myself so much happiness is pretty much the definition of self-defeating. So, to stop that, what if I said yes?"

"Yes?" Hound repeated faintly. His optics darted around, and his field flared with excitement. "Yes? Really?"

"Yes," Bluestreak said, and kissed the tip of Hound's nose.

Hound squealed and threw his arms around Bluestreak's neck. "I honestly didn't think... I mean, I was just fine if... I still **am** fine if you change your mind, and... Yes? Are you **sure**?"

Bluestreak hugged Hound in return, laughing along with his partner. No: laughing along with his Conjunx-to-be. "Yes, pup. I'm sure. I want this. I think I have for a while, but my anxiety wouldn't let me admit it." He could still feel the old disquiet trickling around in the back of his processor, poking and prodding at him, seeking attention for its concerns. Bluestreak resolutely smothered those thoughts, focusing instead on the armful of happy four-by-four he held. "I can't promise that I won't have some moments where I need to be held and reassured that this will be a good thing, but I think that once we've got everything done and settled I'll be fine with it."

Hound climbed back up onto the glider and pulled Bluestreak against his side. "You know Mirage is going to want to host a party for us," he said.

Bluestreak huffed slightly and nodded. "I know," he said. He hated going into the city. He felt much more comfortable out where he could see the horizon in all directions. "Maybe we could host everyone here. Bring them out here, instead of doing it in the city."

"We can do that," Hound said. "If you want." When Bluestreak nodded, Hound leaned over to grab his cube of engex and waited while Bluestreak picked up his own. "You have no idea how happy you've made me, Blue," he said, and held his cube up against Bluestreak's again.

"I have an inkling," Bluestreak replied, gently brushing his field against Hound's joyously vibrating one. He sipped at his cube and then said, "So if this is what we're doing for the 25,0000 vorn anniversary of you knowing me, what should we do for the 25,000 vorn anniversary of me knowing you?"

Hound shrugged. "I have no idea," he said. "But we've got 13,000 vorn to think of something."

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, please consider sharing it on [Tumblr](https://pipermca.tumblr.com/post/188688330767/anniversary), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/pipermca/status/1189344406131957762), or [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/894057)!


End file.
